Earles threw down his pen with a little exclamation. Catch him, she begged silently. With a swirl of her floral chintz petticoats, she placed herself in the capacious window seat, accepted the glass Gerald handed to her, and smiled mischievously up at him. “I’m just off, aunt,” said Ann Veronica. If only there had not been this single torturing thought—a mere pin-prick, but still curiously persistent.
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